


Somewhere Along the Tundra

by SierraBlanca



Series: The Lone Knight and the Sleeping Beast [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Sleeping Beauty Fusion, Anal Sex, Breathplay, Curse Breaking, Dehumanization, Humiliation, Interspecies Sex, Jotunn | Frost Giant, Jötunheimr | Jotunheim, Kings & Queens, M/M, Non-Consensual, Objectification, Oral Sex, Political Alliances, Power Imbalance, Rope Bondage, Sexual Slavery, Spells & Enchantments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 02:00:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8778730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SierraBlanca/pseuds/SierraBlanca
Summary: When they reached a small town further up the tundra, there was great excitement, for everyone had already heard of the ancient curse being broken. As Lord Stark rode into the crooked little street with its high half-timbered houses blocking out the sky, people ran to the narrow windows and doorways; crowding into the cobblestone alleyways. He knew of what they spoke without having to stop to listen. They wondered who he was, and if he had been the one to break the curse. They asked, in hushed voices, if the man who rode with him was Prince Loki.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is the second part :) I don't like it as much as the first one, but I know that if I keep editing it I'll never post it. I like how I managed to portrait their relationship, thought. The agreement they have, the tensions between them, Loki's resentment and Tony's fixations... It was all very interesting to write. Hope you enjoy the reading and remember, this is a very dark story (see the tags) so if you're not into these kind of things, you really shouldn't read it :s

The next morning all the Court gathered in the Great Hall to see the Prince off. The King was present, and he stood with his eyes down and his arms crossed, avoiding the affronted looks that the noblemen were sending at his way. When Lord Stark came down the steps with his son walking behind him, he bowed respectfully. He addressed him and wished him a good trip, offering to guide him to the gates of the castle, even though he knew they were easy to find. For a while, they walked. The King was acutely aware of his son’s presence at his back, but refused to turn his head and look at him. The Prince had been stripped off his armor and dressed in the tainted silks of a courtier. His curly long hair had been braided with ribbons and various golden trinkets, in an almost womanly fashion, and his arms were crossed by shining bracelets. It was shameful to look at.

“Lord Stark.” Laufey would call the young lord, once they reached the front gates. His guest was already walking down the stairs towards his horse, and had to turn around to look at him. “I am in your debt, and I shall never forget what you’ve done for my Kingdom. But I must ask you to reconsider this agreement.” He spoke, looking down. “Loki is my only son.”

Far from sympathetic, the young lord seemed almost offended by his request. “You dare question me?” He asked; with patience, as if talking to a child. “Everything you see now has come to life because of me. If I wish to, I could take all your Kingdom from you, and it would be my right to do so. Instead, I take only one person, and one horse. You ought to be more grateful, my king.”

Laufey bowed once again, disappointed, but didn’t dare to say more. He loved his son, but he loved more his Realm, and he was not willing to trade one for the other.

Pleased, Anthony kept walking towards his mount, prompting Loki to follow. The horse was large and burly, but a beautiful animal, undoubtedly. Its hooves looked strong and durable, even with the snow, and it had a prominent black mane that almost reached its brawny knees. When they approached it, Anthony took Loki by the hand and helped him to climb up the saddle; making sure the leather straps didn’t cut him. For a moment he took in the sight of the creature mounting his horse; his long braided hair falling over his shoulders, his black horns shinning under the scare sunlight. He made sure the horse carried everything they needed, and climbed up the saddle as well.

The prince’s new garments pleased him. He had been put into a white silk robe, lined by gold thread bindings around the waist and wrists, so it wouldn’t fall with the force of the wind. He also had a grey fur coat, and black leather boots to protect his feet from the snow. He wouldn’t be wearing an armor ever again, for it wasn’t his place to thrive in battle anymore. His hair smelled fine after the bath he had taken, and Anthony found himself leaning towards him, burying his nose between the soft black threads. Loki shivered slightly, but let him do as he pleased.

After giving the horse a few minutes to warm up, they rode into the forest.

 

* * *

 

When they reached a small town further up the tundra, there was great excitement, for everyone had already heard of the ancient curse being broken. As Lord Stark rode into the crooked little street with its high half-timbered houses blocking out the sky, people ran to the narrow windows and doorways; crowding into the cobblestone alleyways. He knew of what they spoke without having to stop to listen. They wondered who he was, and if he had been the one to break the curse. They asked, in hushed voices, if the man who rode with him was Prince Loki.

He saw the creature fist his hands around the straps of the saddle, seeming angry, and had to wonder why the common folk’s gossips bothered him so much. The enslavement of noblemen was not abnormal in this part of the Realms, where the horrors of war lurked at every corner. The Lords and Ladies that they would meet once they made it back to the Citadel would see it as the demonstration of strength that it was. Still, being turn into a courtier was far from the worse fate that the Prince could have faced. Most in his case were sold as common slaves, without giving any regard to their former power or their royal blood. At least, with things as they were, he could still maintain certain status.  

A few minutes after entering the village, they arrived to a fine looking Inn, and their horse, with loud clops, entered the courtyard. Immediately, a strong-looking jotun came from inside the establishment to help them down.

“We need dinner and a place to stay. I hope we can find them here?” Anthony said, taking off his riding cloves. He offered Loki a hand to help him off the horse and saw, rather pleased, how gracefully he took it. He watched with admiration how, once he made it to the ground, his long hair fell down around him, covering his shoulders. The trinkets holding it in place were glittering.  

“Of course, my lord.” The Inn’s jotun responded, bowing respectfully. “Please, follow me.” Then he proceeded to take their luggage from the saddle and lead them inside.

They ordered meat and ale, and the most expensive room there was on the Inn. As they waited for their food, seating in a comfortable table were the smells of the kitchens reached them, Anthony took a look through the paned windows. The villagers were looking at them. There were buxom women with stained aprons, and coarse men in breeches and heavy leather shoes, and the young well-to-do men of the town in their velvet cloaks with their hands on their hips as they eyed them from a distance, unwilling to elbow in the crowd. They were all Jotnar; tall, strong and almost frighteningly muscular.

In front of him, Loki stared at the villagers with confusion; as if they were strange, lurid creatures that he had never seen before. Anthony guessed that he hadn’t.

“Had you ever come out of your castle before?” The Lord asked, prompting Loki to turn his gaze towards him. “Is this the first time you see a village?” The prince’s forehead was sweaty for riding so long under the sun, and his cheeks had a dark flush to them that made him look even more beautiful than he already was. Mentally, Anthony told himself that he should be more careful when it came to high temperatures; too much heat would do the little creature no good.

“Yes, it is.” He responded shortly, looking away. Amused, Anthony reached out to play with the bracelets around his arms; enjoying the sharp sound they made when clashing against each other. The prince wrinkled his nose, seeming bothered, but made nothing to stop him or pull away. 

“You like it?” He asked, and saw how, ever so slightly, Loki shook his head. He found the quiet gesture endearing. “Why not?”

“It’s ugly.” The Prince conceded, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Of course it’s ugly. That’s how the real world looks like.” Anthony told him, letting go of his bracelets. The creature lifted his gaze and opened his mouth, perhaps trying to ask something, but before he could do it a young girl came to their table to serve them their food. Anthony waited patiently for her to leave, hoping to get some conversation out of the Jotnar, but by the time she retired Loki was, once again, unwilling to speak to him, or even look at his way.

 

* * *

 

When night fell, and they were both alone in the silence of their room, Anthony ordered his courtier to undress. “Take off your clothes.” He said, taking a seat on a big, leather-lined armchair in front of the window. Hesitantly, Loki did as he was told, undoing the gold bindings of his robe so the garment would fall easily off his body and onto the floor. Feeling the cold of the night kiss his naked skin, he clasped his hands behind his back and waited for instructions.

“I’m feeling rather thirsty.” Anthony said, passing a hand over his bearded chin.  “Be good and bring me some wine.”

Loki stared at him for a moment. He closed his eyes with certain affliction; as if he were looking, somewhere inside him, for some resilience. Then, he went to fetch a goblet and a flagon of wine from the small pantry the owner of the Inn had provided them with. When he came back, he put the items over a small table besides the armchair and, without having to be told, served a glass of the sour beverage. Anthony drank it with pleasure, putting down the goblet after a few gulps.

“Why don’t you kneel before me?” He asked, looking at his courtier with impassive eyes. His voice was soft, thought; almost longing. As if he were asking this of a lover and not of an unwilling partner. “Let your lord know that you respect him.”

The creature didn’t seem pleased with his request. He was staring again; hands fisting at his sides and eyes shining with discomfort. For a while he didn’t move, and Anthony began to wonder, displeased, if he would have to force him down. It would be difficult, and he’d be risking more than a few broken bones just for the sake of his ego, but he was brave enough to try. He couldn’t have a courtier refusing to follow his orders in this way; let alone if the reasons behind their disobedience was pride.

In the end, there was no need to resort to force. Loki nodded at his way slowly, as if it pained him, and lowered his knees to the hard wooden floor before the armchair. The Lord smiled, pleased to have won the silent challenge.

“You’re such a good pet.” He said, patting the creature’s head. He was silent and obedient, so after drinking the wine and quenching his thirst Anthony decided to give him a reward. He lowered the golden vessel and pressed it to Loki’s lips, letting him drink of the sour beverage as well. A few red drops fell from his chin, staining his blue skin with red. Mesmerized, Anthony watched his long beautiful throat as he swallowed, seeing how his Adam’s apple came up and down with each gulp.

The creature’s black hair, loose and curling at his shoulders, gleamed in the light of the tallow candle. There was something about his features, about his white engravings and dark red eyes, that pleased the Lord greatly. Even his hands enthralled him. They seemed so big and strong; and yet the fingers were long, almost delicate. He wondered what it would feel like to have them pleasuring him.

“Do you know what I want of you?” He asked, lovingly scratching Loki’s chin. The creature stared at him in silence, seeming doubtful. “I want you to take me in your mouth. Can you do that? Can you give me that pleasure?” He said, almost whispering. Loki’s cheeks flamed; even in the dark, he could see it. But once again, the Prince hurried to follow his commands. Slowly, he pulled the fabric of his breeches forwards and retired the hook that kept them in place. Then, he could see Lord Stark’s hard cock bulging between his legs; almost painfully twisted. Loki lifted it free without thinking.

He had never imagined that he would have to do this. He thought suddenly of who he was, and who he had been; he thought of his father and his Kingdom, and all his young life before he had fallen asleep, and an almost painful anger began to swell in his chest. He felt tainted; used. As if he had been plucked, still green, from the trees of glory. He could have cried, but he didn’t. He knew that it wasn’t the time to let such thoughts consume him. Lord Stark had taken hold of one of his curls, and he was pulling at it viciously, trying to get him closer to his cock. Right now, his task was not to think or resent, but to please.

“Be nice about it.” Anthony warned, sounding serious. “If your fangs touch it, I’ll punish you.” Without meaning to, Loki trembled. He took a deep breath and stuck out his tongue, giving a tentative lick to the tip of the organ. It made Anthony moan with appreciation; a low, frightening sound, that made something akin to fear stir inside his heart. He passed his tongue all along the pale shaft; letting its sour taste flood his mouth. Then he closed his eyes, and slowly took in the throbbing cock; feeling its huge size, its hardness. Numbly, he felt Lord Stark take hold of one of his horns, forcing him to move. The organ nudged at the back of his throat, and he pushed up and down on it as his Lord guided him. The pace was slow. The intrusion was uncomfortable, demining; but not painful.

“That’s very good. You’re being very good…” The Lord let his head fall to the back of the armchair, engulfed in pleasure. The creature’s tongue moved languidly, waking up unknown nerves around his cock and leaving him breathless. Taking him by the back of the neck, he forced himself deeper into his mouth; feeling how the tip of the organ reached the middle of his throat. It squeezed him beautifully, trying to force him out, but Anthony remained where he was; lost in the slick contractions. He began to move in and out, looking for release; not minding the gagging sounds that the force of his thrusts were causing.

When he finally let go the creature pulled away, coughing loudly. There were tears swelling on his eyes. Anthony smiled, and lovingly patted his hair. His cock was still throbbing with need, almost painfully. He rose and guided the Jotnar to his feet. He held his chin in his left hand, and told him to fold his arms behind his back. The position arched his body, forcing his chest out. He lifted his hair and folded the great mane of it over his right shoulder, away from him. Playfully, he pinched his nipples hard between his finger and thumb, lifting them ever so slightly, to then let them fall. Loki bit his lower lip, trying to ignore the pain.

“Spread your legs.” The Lord said, and he obeyed quickly. For a moment, nothing happened. Everything was silent, but the crickets singing outside. Then, the first spank came, as a stinging pain on the cold surface of his flesh, and then came the second, and the third and fourth. Loki endured it silently, struggling not to back away from the blows. They ended shortly after. Anthony came to stand before him and gently kissed him on the lips.

“Let me tell you something about pain, Loki.” He said, caressing his chest. “You are as a tight bowstring. And the pain loosens you, makes you soft as I want you to be. Do you know what I am saying? Don’t fight it. Yield before it, like you’ve done now, and it will stop.”

“Yes, My Lord.” The Prince responded, looking down. And truth to his word, Anthony stopped. Then Loki felt his rough clothing against him, and his hard naked chest, and the strength of his arms surrounding him. He kissed his neck lightly, almost tenderly, and then, a hand pressed against his back prompted him to move towards the bed.

It was a nice piece of furniture, with four high posts around it that held a coffered ceiling. Anthony ordered him to lay down on it, and as he moved to obey, the Lord pulled out of his pockets four strong looking satin bands. Loki trembled, and for the first time considered backing away. The idea of being tied down scared him. Still, fighting his instincts, he did as he was told. He lay on the bed, and when asked to spread his legs, he complied. He felt the satin get tight around his right ankle and then firmly bound his left ankle, and then his Lord, standing before him on the bed, tied his hands high on either side of his head.

The creature was spread-eagled, looking up at the ceiling, and with pleasure, Anthony realized that he could see all of him clearly; he could see the hard and needy cock between his legs, and the dampness in his thighs that he could not conceal. Ashamed, perhaps even scared, Loki closed his eyes. He was trembling again. The Lord drew near, and nudged his hot little cock; cruelly exposed by his open legs. He couldn’t control his moan; soft, low and angry. He feared that at any moment he might move his hips in helpless, humiliating entreaty.

Anthony snuffed the candles. Now, the room was dark. Beneath his feet Loki felt the mattress give in with a new weight. The Lord put a hand besides his head, looking for support, and used the other to grab one of his hips; lifting him. He wanted to close his legs and move away, but he couldn’t. Lord Stark entered him slowly, relishing in the hot, tight feeling, and slowly kissed his lips. Then he grabbed him by the neck, slightly cutting off his breathing, and began to move.

It was amusing to feel how, as he pounded into him, Loki’s cock began to grow harder and harder beneath his stomach. For all his protests and complains, the thought of being used seemed to excite him greatly. His cheeks were darker than ever before, and his tears now were not only caused by pain or fear, but also by a natural need to breathe. Anthony squeezed his throat harder, and kissed him again, biting into the soft flesh of his lips. The creature’s body trembled violently, anxious by the feeling of being hurt while not being able to move; of being trapped in the dark, with a rough, muscular body pounding into him.

Anthony let go of his neck, allowing him take in air for a few seconds, and then started to squeeze again. Overwhelmed, he thrusted in and out of the warm body, keeping up with his evil game. Choking the creature and then letting him breathe. Choking and breathing, choking and breathing, time and time again. “Are you scared?” He asked at some point, in a low, horrible voice; seeing how tears ran madly down Loki’s face.

“Do you wonder, perhaps, if this is the end? If you would die, here and now, just to give me pleasure?” He gave the Prince a long, lustful kiss, and then let him breathe again. His chest came up and down rapidly, breathing air in and out as quickly as possible, and after giving him only a few more seconds, Anthony lifted his hands to strangle him again. The hole he was pounding into was warm and welcoming, yielding to his every wish, and it wasn’t surprising that, shortly after that, the Lord found his climax. Once and for all he let go of Loki’s neck, and feeling satisfied, he spilled his hot seed inside the creature.

The jotnar began to cough loudly, painfully, desperate to take in air. Anthony stared at him for a few seconds, impassive. He decided to stand up from the bed and leave him be for a while. He fetched some water and a clean towel from the bathroom, hearing the creature’s loud breathing behind him. Briefly, he wondered if he had gone too far. He washed himself quickly on the sink, cleaning the sweat off his hair and skin. He also took the time to remove some traces of his seed from between his legs.

When he came back to the bed, Loki seemed better, but not calmer. He was struggling to get free, angrily tugging at his restrains. When he caught sight of the Lord he stopped; looking at the verge of panic. Not knowing what to do with that, Anthony took a seat next to him. He lifted the goblet full of water towards him, as one does when offering something, but that only prompted the creature to try and back away from him.

“ _Don’t touch me_.” He said. “Don’t. Just, _don’t touch me._ ” He writhed against his restrains, growling like a wounded animal. His voice was a sound painful to hear. Anthony felt pity for him. A small trace of guilt was tugging at his cold heart. Silently, and ignoring the shouting and the protests, he took Loki by the back of the neck and lifted his face.

“Hush now, pet. Don’t cry.” He said, his voice firm but soft. He offered him the goblet and carefully put it against his lips. “Drink.” He commanded, and thirsty as he was, the creature obliged. He took the vessel from him, letting him swallow, and then gave it to him again; not wanting him to choke. “There. It feels better now, doesn’t?” He put the goblet aside, wiping off a single drop of water that was falling from Loki’s mouth. The Jotnar was still alert. Still frightened. But he seemed more composed now.

With the clean towel he cleaned the tears, the sweat, and a few drops of saliva off his face. He made sure to remove the shimmering frost forming under his chin as well. He gave him a short, sweet kiss on the right cheek, and another one on the marked throat. Then, and just then, he started to undo Loki’s restraints. “I don’t want you to run away, once you’re free. I don’t want you to scream, and I don’t want you to fight. Is that understood?” He said, and bitter, scared and way too tired to keep on fighting, the creature nodded with his head. Soon, he was freed from the sating bounds, and allowed to move again.

He sat down on the bed calmly, strangely collected, and caressed the white marks left around his wrists. They were oddly symbolic. “I’ll make you a bath.” The Lord said, startling him; but before he could ask why he would bother, he was already out of the room, turning on the faucet. Not knowing what else to do with himself, Loki walked towards the table and took the flagon of wine, serving himself a goblet. It was old and sweet; of a good harvest. He drank the first cup in just one gulp, and as he was serving himself the second, it occurred to him that he would be drinking a lot from now on. If there was ever an occasion to be drunk, it was definitively this one. 

 


End file.
